Better Days
by Sunday Rain
Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. TR Future.
1. Prologue

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Author: Sunday Rain

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Rating: PG-13 

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Spoilers: Second season.

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Disclaimer: Don't own the characters… 'Scept for Mary and Regina…

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Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days 

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Prologue

Tristan Dugray, winced slightly as an expensive wine flute flew past his head and crashed into the wall behind him. The handsome, young man and the heir of a vast multimillion company felt small and helpless as he watched his angry fiancée Regina Brown interrupt his once idyllic dinner.

"Damn you, Tristan!" Another expensive dinner plate smashed into pieces near his feet. Regina's beautiful blue eyes were stormy and filled with hate and pain as she gazed at him.

"Regina, stop it!" Tristan pleaded. He reached out to her, but she recoiled away from him.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" Regina snapped back. "I'm so fucking tired of this… Of—of you… of the life that you and I have been forced to make because of one fucking mistake!"

"How can you even say that?" Tristan shouted, he was tired of keeping everything inside. Everything Regina had just said to him hit a cord and he exploded. "I thought you said you loved me. I thought you wanted to be with me… I thought, I thought you loved _us!_ What we had, you said it was perfect… I wanted to please you so bad…"

Regina glared at him from the other side of the dining room table. "Don't you fucking play the fucking victim with me, asshole!" But Tristan ignored her and went on with his tirade.

"…I thought I _loved you_. I'm sorry if Mary was a mistake for you, but she isn't a mistake for me. Now, I love her—I love _our _daughter and I'm sorry that we ended up…like…" he gestured across the table, "like _this_, but if you really are unhappy, why don't you just leave? The door is open, I never forced you to stay."

Regina gave a frustrated cry, threw another Ming vase at him, and disappeared from the room in a whiff of Chanel No. 5. Tristan watched her slender figure slam the door behind her.

Suddenly it hit him what he had just done. "Goddamnit!" He slammed his hand on the table. God, Regina, that woman… She just… She drove him crazy. And she'd ruined his life. And she'd walked away from it unscathed to. Just another rich bitch and her ego. So they had a child together and she didn't want it, but no sane woman would just walk away from her own child. Tristan didn't particularly care about the fact she left him, they all did, eventually, after the money and the sex waned or got boring and usual… But this was her _own_ daughter. Their daughter. And so his daughter would grow up without a mother. He felt a horrible sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach. What had he done?

"Damnit, she's awake again…" Tristan sighed, as a loud wail echoed the shatter of the vase on the floor.

Tristan sighed and leaned his head against the wall. His head throbbed with pain. What he wouldn't give for something to hit him hard on the head and take him away from the pain… But no, he could never do that… He headed for the source of the wailing.

His life may have just fallen apart from under his feet those last few moments, but he still could not give up. He had his Mary to think of and care for. 

He walked into his Mary's room and looked down at the beautiful creature that was his entire life. Though her small, tiny face was scrunched up and filled with tears, she still managed to touch his heart. Tufts of blonde hair stuck straight up from her head, and she looked so clownlike, innocent and adorable that even when his heart hurt after what her mother had done to him, he still managed to smile proudly at her.

"Shhh… shhh…" He reached in and picked up Mary's tiny body and held her to his chest tightly. "Mary, my sweet, darling Mary. Don't cry, baby girl, don't cry…" He kissed her forehead and he lifted her up to him so he could look in her eyes. What he saw, the innocence there caused him to break down and he began to cry. 

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry that your mommy has to go… I'm sorry that its just going to be me and you, but I promise you that I will devote my entire life to making you happy, I will take good care of you, Mary, and everything is going to be just fine… I promise." 

Tristan looked down at his daughter and saw that she was sleeping peacefully in the crook of his arm. He smiled, he didn't feel so awful anymore.


	2. Chapter 1: Arrival

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Author: Sunday Rain

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Rating: PG-13 

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Spoilers: Second season.

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Disclaimer: Don't own em.

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Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days

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Chapter 1: Arrival

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4 Years Later…

Lorelai Gilmore, the third, stepped out of Newark airport and inhaled the air. Good old US of A air. It had been a year since she'd been here. She hailed a cab and climbed in. "To Manhattan, please," she told the driver. The turbaned man nodded and speed off. 

Ms. Gilmore quickly got out her mobile phone and dialled.

"Speak to me," a voice at the other end picked up.

"Hey mom! I'm back!" 

"Rory, babe! I was wondering when you were coming back to us. How was the flight? Any young, hot, up and coming businessmen on it? How's Old Blighty?"

"Mom, the flight was fine. No, no businessmen to speak off, well, not anyone of my generation, there are however, a few fine ripe specimens you might be interested in, but other than that no. And England is just fine, it's still standing," Rory replied, a smile in her voice.

"_Ripe?_ Pardon me," Lorelai Gilmore (the second), "But I resent that. Besides, I don't need no Ewan McGregors with Ph.Ds … I've got my Coffee Man."

"Of course," Rory replied, she had almost forgotten about Luke. "How is Luke? You haven't done anything harmful to him have you?"

"Well, nothing _harmful_, but, yesterday night, when he came home I surprised him with—" 

"Mom, you're not supposed to share intimate details of your relationship to me!" Rory interrupted before her mother began regaling a bedroom tale of her and her lover. "I'm really glad you both finally realised what you mean to each other… I can't believe you were the last to see it… I wish I had been there!"

"Yeah, well, CNN London needs its star reporter," Lorelai said, pride in her voice. "Speaking of which, how long are you staying here?"

Rory sighed. Who knew when she'd be shipped off back to London? She was afterall, only a junior reporter for CNN. But she was getting slowly but surely to her dream. Whenever anyone spoke of her work, she immediately felt elated yet curiously exhausted at the same time. 

"Who knows? They need a replacement for one of the reporters here who just had a baby, her name's… Rose McTernin or something, anyway, maybe you've seen her on World News or something, she's an East Coast correspondent, but she'll be off for a few months on maternity leave here, so that's my spot at the moment."

"So, do I get to see you on TV more often?"

"I really don't know mom, but I'm thinking the same as usual," Rory shrugged, it didn't matter to her as long as she was doing what she loved to do.

"Well, either way, I'm still coming this weekend right? I'll have Luke's special stuff ready for you!"

Rory's ears perked up at the mention of her elixir of life. "Oh, that reminds me, I need to buy a massive supply of coffee for this week! Yes mom, you have to help me get settled into my apartment."

"Well, of course baby, I'll be down on Saturday morning, kay?" Lorelai replied. "Ahhh! Michèl is giving me a horrible, terrible, awfully scary look, I should put the phone down, sorry hon."

"OK mom, take care… Love you!" 

"Love you too tuts…" Lorelai said. "…OK, Michèl, drop that look, I'm working, working…" Rory heard her say before the phone disconnected.

Giggling quietly, she settled back into the taxi seat for the ride into the city.


	3. Chapter 2: Lost and Found

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Author: Sunday Rain

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Rating: PG-13 

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Spoilers: Second season.

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Disclaimer: Don't own em.

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Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days

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Chapter 2: Lost and Found

"So, Tony, can you finish up this final draft of the Neilsen proposition?" It was more of a statement than a request. Tristan Dugray never had to ask to get anything done. After all, he was head of the department, on his way to take over his father's company as CEO.

"Sure boss," came the reply, as usual. 

"We'll have the final meeting with the board on Tuesday—Oh shit!" Tristan looked at his watch.

"Pardon?"

"Ah, um, excuse me, I have to pick up my daughter from school, her nanny's off," Before he even finished he was already straightening up his desk and putting his blazer on. "Is that alright with you?"

"Oh, go on, boss…" And with that, the phone connection was disconnected and Tristan was out the door.

"Daddy!" Mary Dugrey squealed happily, as spotted her father outside the Manhattan brownstone that was her school. She quickly ran to him and launched herself at him.

"Hey baby!" Tristan caught her in his arms. He swung her up and gave her a kiss. "So, how was school?"

"Well, we did crafts today, and Mrs. Hanover gave me a gold star for my picture!" Mary showed her father the said picture.

"Wow, that's really pretty, we'll hang it up when we get home OK?" Tristan said. "But Daddy has to go to the grocery store to buy some stuff for dinner first… Do you want to come with me or do you want me to drop you off at home first?"

"Can I come?" Mary eagerly asked. Her tiny hand squeezed his larger one in excitement. "And can you buy me some more Oreo cookies and chocolate milk too?"

"Of course, baby, of course," He chuckled at her request and led her by the hand down the streets of Manhattan.

"Oh, and daddy? Can I come to a birthday party? Pretty please? Its Ellen M's birthday on Saturday, and I was invited! And guess what she told me? They're going to have a real clown there…" 

Rory tossed a couple of instant popcorn packets into her grocery trolley, which was already full and loaded with cookies, crisps, and just about every other brand of sugary junk food treats she could find. 

It was her third hour in the city and she had taken a walk down the street from her flat and after stopping by at a Starbucks to load up on coffee beans, she ended up at a grocery store.

Satisfied that her sugar quotient would remain on a permanent high for awhile, Rory reluctantly came to the conclusion that she needed some consumables that were of nutritional value, so she headed off to find some.

"Uhm, crap," Rory said, staring at the different pasta sauces in front of her. At times like these, she wished she had been Sookie's offspring. Well, not quite, but she wished that Sookie was here with her. She randomly chose items with tasty looking photographs on the cover, hoping they were easy to make. 

Suddenly she felt a little tug on her expensive DKNY pants. Rory looked down and stared into the enormous and round sky blue eyes of a young, _young_ girl. "Oh!"

The girl did not seemed taken aback by the stranger. "'Scuse me, but could you hewp me fwind my daddy?" Her adorable face lit up expectantly at this stranger that she hoped would be kind. 

_Oh my Goodness, how adorable!!! _Rory squealed inwardly. Then she realised what this little girl had just requested of her. "Oh, sure, darling, lets go find your daddy, okay? We'll find him." The girl smiled widely at this.

"Thank you… I'm Mary," the little girl said, suddenly remembering her manners. She held her hand out like her father had taught her.

"Well, I'm Rory, nice to meet you."

"Well, Mare, I'm not quite sure what you want for dinner, we could have some tacos, we haven't had those in awhile, have we? …But what do you want, Mary?" Tristan turned around to face his daughter. Instead, he found an empty space beside him where Mary had been just a minute before. His heart skipped a beat. Thoughts of dinner slipped his mind as he frantically searched up and down the aisle.

Tristan abandoned his cart and ran to the next aisle. "Mary? Mare, where are you?" She wasn't there either. "Shit, Mare!" He continued through to the next aisle.

"…Well, daddy was going on and on about dinner and I just got bored, and I wanted to get the cookies, so I thought I could find them myself," Mary explained. Rory smiled to herself. For a lost child, this girl was extremely calm. "And then I forgot where he—" Her story was interrupted by someone else's voice booming down the aisle in front of them.

"Mary? Mary, where are you?"

"Well, is that your dad looking for you?" Rory said, as a tall, blonde man turned into their aisle. His hair was ruffled and he looked panicked.

"Daddy!" Mary let go of Rory's hand and ran toward him.

Tristen breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted his little girl. "Aw baby!" He scooped Mary up and tightly held his daughter close to him. "Thank God! I thought I'd lost you—You almost sent me to my grave! Where have you been?!"

"Aw, daddy, I just went to get cookies, I'm sorry," Mary gave him a sloopy kiss on his cheeks. "But this lady helped me." Mary wormed out of his embrace and lead him toward a rather attractive brunette in expensive attire.

Rory eyed the man that was Mary's "daddy". _Young,_ she thought. _Not bad looking,in fact, quite Adonis-like, hrrrm…Wonder if he's—No, stop, don't think about that. Its barely been a year since Colm!_

She snapped out of her reverie when she noticed Mary drag her father toward her. The man was smiling and his face looked even better up close than she had thought possible. His eyes were the same cerulean blue as Mary's and yes it was clear she had inherited his lips, which was cocked into a thankful grin. He ran his hands over the back of his neck, and she noticed his ruffled hair. He was, in no uncertain terms, sexy.

"Aw, man, thank you so much for taking Mary here, I hope she wasn't inconveniencing you," the man started.

"Oh, no it wasn't a problem at all, she's very sweet," Rory replied. There was something so familiar about this man. "Just glad you found your daddy, Mary."

It hit him as she said, "…found your daddy, Mary." The mention of his daughter's name on her lips brought back memories from long, long ago. She was… No, it couldn't be. Could it?

"Rory?" Tristan questioned, interrupting. The woman shut her mouth and studied him carefully. 

"How did you know…?"

"Its Tristan. Dugray. From Chilton?" The last part Tristan added with a rueful smile. "I'm sure you don't remember—"

"Tristan?!" Rory's own blue eyes widened in disbelief. "King of Chilton Tristan? Tristan who broke into a safe and got sent to military school Tristan? Romeo Tristan?"

Tristan couldn't help but laugh at that outburst. "It has been _awhile…_"

"Yes it has," Rory said. "I never thought I'd… So, Mary here is a Dugrey, eh?" She looked down at the girl who was looking between her father and her with a confused look on her face.

"Yep she is, she's my baby girl," Tristan said, fatherly proudness coated that comment. "Mary, this is Rory, an old _old_ school…"

"Friend," Rory finished, smiling at him. 

"Really?" Mary said, while Tristan was taken aback by Rory's comment. He didn't really remember very much about Chilton, his old high school, he didn't really enjoy bringing the memories back, but he couldn't help but feel that indeed back in those days he and Rory weren't really…friends.

A silence fell between them. A cellphone ringing at another part of the store brought them out of it. "Well, Tristan, it's great to see you here," Rory said, she knew she would have to get back home, she had to rest and get an early start for tomorrow. "We should, um, keep in touch, yes?"

"Oh, oh, yes of course," Tristan replied, still in somewhat of a daze. He dug around in his jacket for his wallet. In it he found what he was looking for. "Here, maybe we could reminisce about old times sometime." He handed her a business card.

"Yes, we must," Rory said, reciprocating his action by giving him her own card. "Alright, it was very nice to meet you, Mary," she smiled and patted her on the head. "Hope we'll meet again soon." This was to both of them, and she began heading toward the cashier.

"Bye!" Mary said, and Tristan echoed his daughter. 

They stood there for awhile after Rory was gone. "Hrrm, well, we'd better start home to, sweetie, or else you'll never get your dinner!" 


	4. Chapter 3: Recollections of Days Gone By

Author: VeeTee [vt88600@yahoo.com]

Date: 9 July 2002 (fully re-edited: 12 January 2003)

Rated: PG13 (language)

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for the second season. 

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters… 

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days

Chapter 3: Recollections of Days Gone By

"…And at the start of today's trading day the NASDAQ is by up three per—" The reporter's voice was cut off. Tristan had changed the channel.

He glanced at his desk clock and sighed. It was lunchtime and once again, he had nowhere to be. No meetings, no appointments with teachers or hospitals and no lunch dates. "Man, you gotta get out more," was the phrase most commonly uttered by his best friend John Brewer, who, at the moment, was tied up in Rome with his own business. 

So, there was no chance of him going out, for the only time Tristan ever really went out for non-business-related things was when John almost physically hauled him off his ass and dragged him off. _Oh well,_ Tristan thought, _more time to get more work done._ Swallowing the last bite of his turkey sandwich—bought the downstairs restaurant—he shifted his attention to the paperwork lying on his desk, thinking to get something done to show for his absence at the daily lunches with his co-executives.

The problem was, Tristan found after shifting through his papers, there _was_ really no work for him to be done. All the work that needed to be done today by him had actually been completed, as usual, ahead of schedule. That meant that all he had to do was give them to his underlings, and then wait for them to do the rest of the dirty work and just approve of them after they were finished.

Sometimes, he hated being an exec.

Sitting back, he looked out the window of his 23rd storey office. He could see the city below, busy, without a doubt and with no one down there caring that an underworked overpayed anal retentive business executive had nothing, and no one to be with, on this lazy Friday lunchtime. All anyone normal really was thinking about was that there were only four more hours till the working week was done.

With nothing really interesting to see—Tristan had this office for the past three years—he turned back and his eye caught the fancy Rolodex perched atop his computer. Usually it was immaculately organised—it used to be colour coded until his secretary had called him obsessive compulsive—but now, his eye for disorder pointed out a tiny card poking out from the back. It had been hastily placed there, he remembered. 

Tristan reached out and touched the card, with the goal of pushing it into its place, but all the action did was dislodge it from the crevice it was stuck in and flutter to the desktop. 

Etched on the card in simply black block letters was _Lorelai Gilmore_.

A name synonymous with Chilton. A time that, until he saw her that day at the grocery store, he had all but completely forgotten about. And the memories reeled through his head once again.

Though to others Tristan was the king of all that was cool and hot, back then as a sixteen year old, he had a hard time being himself. It wasn't really a horrific scarring time for him at Chilton, but he had been strangely relieved when his father removed him from his kingdom and put him in a military school that accepted him as the epitome of cool far less easily. Tristan had been a nobody in his military school but he was happier, being able to concentrate on things that really mattered to him, instead of putting up a face for others. Being away from his parents also seemed to smooth the bumpy surfaces of their relationship. When he returned that summer, they seemed to get along far better…distance suited the Dugreys.

But the bad part was to forget Mary. Rory. Lorelai. 

Rory was the first girl in Chilton that he had ever liked because of her personality. Well, he had liked Paris Gellar at some point but never as a crush (what else could you call it those days?) and besides, Paris, he recalled, scared the hell out of him_—hmmm… where was she now? _He wondered fleetingly. 

But Rory… She was different. Tristan realised that soon after she showed up at his school, the new student late by a few weeks into school. It took him around less than an hour to get the 411 on her, less than that for him to get on her nerves. And it took him the rest of his time in Chilton to get her to look at him as though her were an actual human and not a mere slug who wasted her time just by being in her path. 

It wasn't as though she was obnoxious or spoilted or snobbish. Far from it… She was quiet and determined and didn't care that she was not the most popular kid in school. Which was why it was so hard for Tristan, king of Chilton, to admit that he had a crush on her. If anyone found out that the playboy king who flitted from girl to girl without a moment's thought had a crush on Rory. Well, it was weird. 

But his hormones took over his ego—somewhat—and he spent his time annoying her just to get her attention. And then crush turned into massive infatuation and then into what he thought at the time was love. But it wasn't, really, because he wasn't heartbroken when he had left without kissing her one more time, and she didn't make his head dizzy when he thought of her… Rory just gave him fonder memories of his Chilton years.

Tristan smiled as he thought of the time he first called her Mary, Rory thinking it was a mistake, but it wasn't. And one of the most memorable, kissing her that one night after they had both broken up from their respective 'significant' others. Maybe Mr…whats-his-name was significant to her, but his ex at the time had been far less than significant to Tristan. He played Romeo to her Juliet but never got to perform it—for that was the night he got pulled out of school. 

The best moments were the ones after the kiss—after they cleared up the reason why she ran away crying anyway—the ones in which the two of them were, dare he say it, geniunely friends. But then Tristan screwed up, he remembered… And he had regretted never apologising before he disappeared from her life and Chilton.

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Ahh, whatever, Tristan shrugged, getting out of his mental reverie. That was almost a decade ago, there's nothing wrong with trying to be friends with an old…classmate?…Obviously not friend especially after what he had done and Rory's reactions…but that was in the past, and they were grown adults now, easily capable of making a friendship work without the misunderstandings that teenagers often have. And it wasn't as if Tristan had much friends to speak of. Socially speaking, he had no life.

He reached over to his phone and punched in the numbers slowly.

Across town, Lorelai Gilmore, CNN junior correspondent, nearly passed out at the sight of so much paperwork and research to do. As a minor reporter, that meant she could afford the time and needed the experience of doing her own research and paperwork without an assistant. It had been fun the first few months that she had gotten the job but it got tedious after awhile. Especially since other higher-ups assumed they could use her as _their_ personal assistant. Even harder considering it was only her second day of work.

"Who's got the mayor's coverage?" Leonard Bratislava, head of the New York office announced loudly. Inwardly, Rory groaned because that question reminded her of another piece of research she had as of then forgotten to put in her 'To-Do' list. Before she could do that, the phone rang at her desk.

"Hello, CNN New York, Lorelai Gilmore speaking," she said into the speaker, while highlighting an uninteresting report on the mayor's upcoming book.

"Uh…Hi, this is Tristan Dugrey—" 

"Tristan, hi! I was just about to call you," she lied. She had, honestly, on Monday night, but then decided work, however boring and migraine-causing it was, demanded her time rather than get in touch with a guy she hadn't seen in years, no matter how interesting it would be. She had planned to on the weekend though. 

"Oh, that sounds promising. I hope I'm not interrupting anything, though… I don't really know how reporters work," came the voice down the phone.

"Nah, actually you're call is probably going to be one of the highlights of my day," Rory replied, this time not lying. "Honestly, I could care less about the mayor's new book, but a job is a job."

"Yes it is. Rory, oh. I mean, um, Lorelai—I'm sorry, what name do you go by now?"

"Depends. If this is about work, than its Lorelai but special people get to call me Rory the Great."

"Still haven't lost your sense of humour, I see," Tristan replied, not keeping the laugh out of his voice. "Well, Rory, if you're not busy, would you like to meet up with me tonight and catch up on old times?"

"That sounds fun, Tristan, sure. Where?" _Why not? Make new friends in the big city, stop thinking about Col—stop it!_ Rory thought.

"How about I pick you up from your office and we can get some coffee somewhere, I'm sure you're still new to the city?" Tristan suggested.

"Company sounds good, coffee sounds wonderful, do you know where the office is?" Rory asked. It was something to look forward to after all this work.

"Of course, I'm almost a native!" Tristan scoffed slightly. "Alright, I'll see you then."

"Thank you for calling," Rory replied, genuinely.

"No problem." 

And with that they hung up and Rory returned her full attention to the work in front of her.


	5. Chapter 4: Renewing Acquaintances

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Author: Sunday Rain

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Rating: PG-13 

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Spoilers: Second season.

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Disclaimer: Don't own em.

****

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days

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Chapter 4: Renewing Acquaintances

"You're late…" Rory grumbled jokingly when she saw Tristan walk up the road to the building that housed the CNN New York office and where she had been waiting since the she left her desk at exactly five thirty. 

Tristan didn't say anything until he went up the steps of the building before saying anything. "By five minutes!"

"You should never keep a woman waiting, Tristan, where are your manners?" Rory kept on chiding him. "Its freezing."

"I'm beginning to regret asking you to coffee…"

"Oh, no no no, you must never regret asking me to coffee. In fact, I insist that you ask me more often from now on. It is the proper Gilmore way to get on my good side."

"Since when was I ever on your bad side?"

"Sophomore year. Mary. Need I say more?" 

"Oh, now, that makes me feel so old," Tristan whispered, amazed at the fact that ten years had passed since he was seventeen. 

"Doesn't it?" Rory laughed, as the two headed down the road. "Where are we going?"

"My favourite coffee place. The guy who owns it was one of the first people I became friends with when I moved here seven years ago," Tristan informed her. "He should be one of the first people you meet here as well. Mark is like the brother I never had."

The two walked further in silence. Just as Rory turned to face him to inquire about something else, he tugged on her hand gently and led her into a store that judging by the sign above the glass door said simply _Mark's Coffee_. 

The interior was subtly lit, but most of the light came from the wide floor-to-ceiling windows, giving the place a spacious feel. Soft music came from overhead and there were framed prints of fifties advertisements on the wall. Brown, maroon and crème colour couched lined the walls along with marble-topped circular coffee tables and wooden chairs. Comfortable and not overdone. The place seemed like the kind where there were devoted regulars but not many new people came. 

The best part of it all was the aroma that wafted around the air inside the café, Rory decided. It was the heavenly smell of coffee. She followed Tristan to the marble-topped bar.

A man had his back turned away from them at the end of the bar, but he turned around as Tristan coughed loudly. "Yo, Mark!"

Mark, a man who looked a little older than Tristan, with dark hair and dancing green eyes and reminded Rory of Luke, smiled. "Tristan, bro, haven't seen you since two weeks ago! How was Germany?"

"Ahh, same old boring shit," Tristan replied, reaching over the counter to slap Mark on the back. "How's it going here?"

"Great, actually!" Mark replied. "Lucy moved in."

"Finally!" 

Mark looked over at Rory, who was watching this exchange with a slight smile on her face. "And who is this lovely lady?"

"Ahh… you're clever," Rory replied, extending her hand out. "I'm Rory, the more sane part of Tristan's past. I just moved here, and Tristan here is introducing me to the finer part of New York City."

"Tristan's past, eh?" Mark said, taking her hand and shaking it. "I'm Mark, and you sound like you could be my new best friend. Any blackmail-worthy information about Blondie here?"

"Ahh, plenty," Rory said, playing along. "But first, you must provide me with the heavenly brown liquid made from beans that you serve here and that I love."

"Coffee addict," Tristan whispered, as an explanation.

"So you are my new best friend!" Mark exclaimed. "I like this girl already." He went to fill a massive mug of coffee. 

"Why thank you," Rory replied. She leaned over the counter, impatient for her coffee. "I think I like you too, but only if you let me alone with coffee and not bother me about how unhealthy it is and provide me with endless amounts."

"Why should I?"

Rory laughed. "In my hometown of Stars Hollow, my mother's boyfriend, Luke, owns the diner and provides us with some of this holy goodness. Unfortunately he always goes on about how unhealthy it is for me, etcetera, etcetera." She paused to gulp down half of the mug that he handed her.

"Haha, a health freak, eh?" Mark said. "Well, you have nothing to fear, I'm somewhat of an addict myself." 

Beside Rory, Tristan groaned. 

"You see him, Rory?" Mark pointed, as he set another mug of something that was not anything like coffee in front of Tristan. "This man refuses to believe in the healing powers of the coffee bean."

"I like tea, is that a problem?" Tristan said, defensively, clutching his mug.

"Loohuuuser…" Rory murmured before taking another sip.

"Beg your pardon?" Tristan blinked, disbelieving. "I'm sorry, I just had a flashback to eighth grade. I could have sworn you just said 'Loohusuuser' but I'm sure that was just me; as I know you, Rory Gilmore, Ms. Harvard, Ms. Four-Point-Oh GPA, Ms. Chilton-Education and Ms. I-Work-For-CNN would not ever use such an unsophisticated word as that."

"Ahaha, you think you're _so_ clever," Rory mocked.

"But I am…"

Mark smiled amused at the two. "Alright, I'm gonna go back to work and leave you two here to catch up. I'll be by later. Enjoy, and just holler if you need more coffee…"

"Will do!" Rory promised, she turned in her barstool to get more comfortable and be facing Tristan.

"So, Tristan… Its been so long."

"Yes, indeed it has," Tristan said. "I hate to ask this question, but how was Chilton after I left?"

Rory laughed. "To be honest, your departure didn't really leave a massive empty space in the halls of that hellhole."

"Ah, durnit, I'm hurt." 

"Well, there were many people who didn't hesitate to fill the King-Of-Chilton spot that you leaving left open."

"And you?"

"Well, me? I just stayed me… I, um, I worked hard, I got my grades—I actually became friends with Paris, by the way, but we lost touch over the years—and I got into Harvard," Rory paused and smiled as she remembered one of the happiest days of her life. "And I just left without looking back."

"Good girl," Tristan said. "I hated that place."

Rory started in surprise. "But you were so popular and loved!"

"Well, evidently, not enough, because you just said no one gave a shit when I left… I was just there as gossip material."

"True," Rory admitted. "I can't deny it and lie."

"You shouldn't," Tristan said. "I know this might sound bizarre to you, but I was glad when I got pulled out."

"That was a stupid prank you did, I remember," Rory attempted to remember. "What was it?"

"Uhm, I went through this guy's father's safe…"

"Oh yeah. Yeah. Stupid."

"Well, I was young and…stupid," Tristan lamely defended.

"Anyway, how was life after Chilton?" Rory asked. "You know, I always regretted not keeping in touch with some people from Chilton. You, Paris and her two cronies and Henry were the only people there who treated me as…well, an actual existing being, despite the fact that you did piss me off. I should've kept in touch with those who attempted to make my life there not quite a living hell."

"Well, don't regret, I didn't keep in touch with anyone from Chilton, nor from the military school I went to," Tristan said. "I like to keep my past in the past. I did a lot of stupid things. In military school, it wasn't any different from Chilton, just that the people weren't rich. They didn't give a shit about the next guy, but atleast they were honest about it. That was slightly better. I had no 'image' and I was pretty much left alone for the next two years of my high school, and that, I realised were my two happiest years as a child."

"Military school…" Rory winced.

"Its not bad. I got great abs."

"Ugh, please."

"Well, since you said please…"

"My goodness, are we back to these innuendos?" Rory exclaimed.

"I'm sorry?" Tristan asked, confused by her comment. Then he remembered, and laughed. "I guess that's just the way I am…"

"Its nice to know you can depend on the fact that no matter how much time has passed, some things just never change."

"And on that note…" Tristan said. "You got into Harvard like you wanted to then?"

Rory nodded. "You had military school, I had Harvard as the happiest times of my life. I really learnt the meaning of independence. I'd lived my whole life sharing everything with my mom, and all of a sudden, I was living miles away and couldn't depend on her all the time. Very shocking, but it was a great experience. I loved it…" Her eyes got a faraway look in them, which amused Tristan and he coughed to bring her back to reality. "Oh, sorry. What about you? College and everything."

"I went to Yale, big surprise," Tristan said. "It was okay, majored in business administration, blahblahblah. I wanted to be a cook. But, the good son I was, I finished that route and have worked for the Dugray Group ever since."

"Seriously?" Rory said. "A cook?"

"Yeah, its fun, I love to cook…" Tristan smiled. "I found that calling in the first few months of college. I rock, and don't you look so surprised. I'll invite you sometime and feed you my killer Sunday roast."

"You must," Rory said, "Although, the adjective you used for that isn't very encouraging."

"You laugh now but if you only knew," Tristan said. "So where have you been these past few years?"

"Well, I got out of Harvard and took this internship at CNN in Atlanta for awhile before I did my masters. When I graduated two years ago from Cornell, my post graduate studies, a friend of mine who worked at CNN in the personnel department called me and asked if I was interested in a position they had vacant. I jumped right in; there was no hesitation."

"And you got to live your dream…" Tristan looked almost envious. A silence fell between them. 

"Uhm, so…" Rory said, breaking the awkward silence. "Mary?"

"Pardon?"

"Mary Dugray?" Rory said. "She's cute, Tristan. You're very lucky to have a loving daughter… I never pegged you as the married-with-children type of person."

"Oooh, no no no," Tristan smiled ruefully. "Married? No. Definitely not. Unfortunately. But the whole fatherhood is in fact an amazing experience."

"Really?" Rory said, surprised. _Tristan wasn't married?_ "Uhm, if you…uh, don't mind me asking?"

"Oh no, of course not," Tristan shrugged, knowing where the conversation was headed. "Its really not a big deal… I mean, it was, around five years ago, but you learn to live with it, you know? Especially since I have this… precious gift given to me that depends on me to be strong for her."

"Eh?" Rory said, not understanding his babble.

"Sorry," Tristan coughed and composed himself. "Mary is…I guess you could say, although it is very _cliché_, she's my little miracle, my purpose in life. If it weren't for her, I'd probably be wild and out of control. But I do everything for her."

"…And your wife? I mean, Mary's mom…?" Rory asked, she couldn't help it, she was naturally a curious person.

"Regina. Hrrm. Its been awhile since I've thought about her," Tristan admitted. "Well… To be honest the only other person who knows about this in its entirety is Mark. I feel kind of awkward just spilling it out to you, who I've just met again a few days ago."

"Come on, Tristan," Rory said. "It's been a long time, you and I were meant to be friends. We just never had the opportunity to, sadly."

"True, true," Tristan nodded his head in agreement.

Slowly, the two re-acquanted friends revealed their pasts to each other and caught up with one another's lives.

"Tristan?" Mark asked, stopping by after he refueled Rory's fourth cup that night. "Shouldn't you be—"

Tristan seemed to have read his mind. "Good God, you are right!" He lept from his chair. "I've been so engrossed in our conversation I can't believe I forgot Mary!"

"You have to pick her up?" Rory asked.

"Yeah, her play date ended around fifteen minutes ago." Tristan flipped open his mobile phone and quickly dialed a number commited to memory.

"Hello? Is this the Johnson residence?" Tristan asked. "Yes, may I please speak to Mrs. Johnson? Thank you. Hi, Trish, it's Tristan. I'm so sorry, I lost track of time… Is Mary okay? Well that's great, she and Jenny have always been such great friends—They want to have a sleepover? Well… I don't want to burden you with Mary. Are you sure? That sounds great, I'm sure Mary would love that. I'll pick her up tomorrow then, at around ten? Yeah, thanks Trish. Send my regards to Harry. Yes, contract is making great progress… And could you tell Mary that I will call here at around eight before she sleeps? Thanks again Trish. Bye!"

Hanging up, he turned to Mark and Rory who had been listening. "She's sleeping over there. I owe the Johnsons a lot. Whenever I'm so busy, they volunteer to take Mary in. I feel so guilty whenever I leave her."

"Well, little girls always need to be with their best friends," Rory said. She remembered Lane, her best friend in Stars Hollow. 

"So, how's your catching up coming along?" Mark asked.

"Oh its been quite nice actually." Rory smiled in agreement with Tristan's comment. "I'm glad we did this."

"Me too."

"Anyway, where were we?" Rory asked. 

"Oh, you were telling me about your horrible experience with the snake at the zoo in Fez."

"Ah!" Rory shuddered at the memory.

"Well, continue…" Mark urged.

"I don't think I want to."

"Come on, you've got an audience!"

"Oh fine," Rory said. "But never again will you remind me of this—either of you."

"Scouts honour," Mark replied. "Now get on with it!"

Laughing, Rory continued her tale.


	6. Chapter 5: Unwelcome Discovery

****

Author: Sunday Rain

****

Rating: PG-13 

****

Spoilers: Second season.

****

Disclaimer: Don't own em.

****

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days

__

Chapter 5: Unwelcome Discovery

That night, Rory went home in a happy mood. 

Her work was hard, true, but when all was said and done, her career was indeed her dream. No matter how hard it was, she loved it, nonetheless. 

Moving to New York was hard, but when she had to move to Boston for Harvard, it was even harder; she had never left home before. And before she even moved to London a few years ago, she moved to Atlanta, Georgia, where the CNN headquarters were located. That was hard, because at that point Rory realised she was moving on to the "real" world. 

NYC was not bad, quite nice, bustling, but then again after Stars Hollow's quiet, tranquil and gentle pace, everything is much more busy in comparison. Her apartment wasn't very spacey, Rory had to admit, but New York City certainly did not have such a luxury to spare. However, it was very cosy and in a safe building. There were two small bedrooms each with their own bathrooms and a living space conjoined with the kitchen and dining areas. Loftish—but not in the artisan Paris-chic… 

There was a guard downstairs, surprisingly enough for Lorelai, Rory had chosen the one building on their list of potential homes that had a nice jolly man (who could possibly double as Santa during Christmas seasons) that actually wore a penguin suit. Rory chuckled, remembering Lorelai's horror.

Flipping on the light switch in her room, she kicked off her stuffy business attire and got into her favourite sheep pajamas. Grabbing a book off her bedside table, this time it was _One Hundred Years of Solitude _by Gabriel García Márquez (an old favourite) she headed back out into the living room.

Just as she was about to get settled into her favourite brown, tattered reading chair, stolen from her grandfather's study a few years ago, she noticed the answer machine light blinking, indicating that, she did indeed have a message. 

Grunting in the effort, she leaned over to push the button to play.

"…Hey, this is Lorelai and obviously I'm not here at the moment, so do your thing. _Beep_." 

"Hey Lorelai. Its me Lorelai too! I mean, of course not Lorelai too as in the second, just Lorelai…as well…ouch. I just gave myself a headache with that. Anyway, baby doll, fruit of my loins, child of my…OK, to the point. Call me, babe, miss you much and need to hear your voice! Love, your mother. _Beep_."

Rory didn't hesitate even for a millisecond to pick up the phone and punch in her childhood phone number. She smiled as she counted the number of rings it took before anyone answered.

"Ugh. Found it!" Luke yelled over his shoulder, as he leapt over the couch, landing in a not very comfortable looking position, legs up in the air and face smushed in the cushions. "Uhm. 'Lo?" He mumbled, his face stuck to the receiver.

"Luke?" Rory's voice asked, a little unsure. "You sound…weird."

"Hey Ror!" Luke replied, trying to reposition his body into something more physically logical. "Ow. Its that damn woman's fault. If she would just put the phone back where it belongs, then I wouldn't have this potential back injury."

"Oh, ouch," Rory grimaced, across the line. 

"How are you?" Luke asked, concerned. Even though he was wasn't even yet a step-father to her, he still felt like he knew Rory like a father would his daughter.

"Actually, better than the last time we spoke," Rory replied. "Now that your coffee supply is safely stored in my fridge and cupboards, there is little more I need to survive in this concrete jungle. New York's not bad. I even met an old friend."

"Well that's great, sweetie." Although Luke had a gruff voice, whenever he talked to Rory or Lorelai, it would be soft and caring. "Tell me about—" Luke was cut off when a leaping Lorelai flew across the living room and stole the phone away from him before he could protest.

"Wha—?!" 

"Babe!" Lorelai shrieked into the phone. "Oh you wouldn't believe the day I've had!"

"Mommy!"

"Ah… First, this rich couple checked out early, complaining of some nonexistent problem which took nearly two hours to resolve, the substitute receptionist double booked a bunch of people, Michèl quit—which makes it three times this week, more than his usual two, and Sookie nearly set the Inn on fire!"

"Oh, don't exaggerate, Lor," Luke scoffed. "She just set two pans of brownies on fire, that's all."

"Well tell that to the fire department," Lorelai retorted. "We had to pay a _fine_."

"Well maybe if you all would be a little more careful…"

"Shush man."

"Mom!" 

"Oh, what?" Lorelai had nearly forgotten that she was on the phone. "Silly me, I got carried away. So, enough about me, what about you? Have you gotten semi-settled in yet? I don't understand why you wouldn't let me have a housewarming party for you."

"Well, mom, first of all, a housewarming party has a working definition of a 'party' that just so happens to be celebrating moving into a new house, which means we would actually have to plan it. Secondly, a party generally implies that more than the hosts will be there. Considering I knew no one in New York, that would be rather boring as its just me…and you."

"So? Since when did we ever need anyone else to have fun?"

Rory sighed in exasperation. "Well, to get back to your first and more sane question, I have yet to get settled in completely. Just when I had gotten used to the right-hand driving of England I move back here and am constantly terrified I might be killed by the cars, before I remember that I am actually in the States. So, that's one problem. But I've met an old friend!"

"What?" Lorelai asked. "I didn't think you knew anyone there. Excluding teacher Jess, cos obviously he is not there. By the way, I talked to him yesterday, he says he loves teaching smartass Yale-eans."

"Could that possibly be because he himself embodies the very same trait you just mentioned?" 

"I'll pretend I understood that," Lorelai grumbled. "Anyway, so who's this old friend? Do I know her? Paris, perhaps...?"

"No no, its most definitely not Paris, she's in…Paris, I think, haha," Rory said. "And you don't know _him_, I can guarantee."

"So, it's a male, hrrm? Who?"

"He was a Chiltonite."

"Ah, rich snobs 'r' us. Again, I ask you, who?"

"Tristan Dugray."

"Dugray…As in 'Dugray Group' Dugray?" Lorelai was surprised; she didn't remember—oh, wait a minute. "Tristan, the guy who tormented you the whole first year, called you Mary, became the failed Romeo to your Juliet and then disappeared never to be heard from again?"

"Well, apparently, he was not 'never to be heard from again', we bumped into each other at this grocery store, traded cards and the next thing I know, we're laughing hysterically at a memory of Il Duce over cups of coffee at this cool little place."

"Wow, my little girl's growing up," Lorelai teased. "She's on her own, makin' friends in the big bad city…"

Rory ignored her. "And the owner of the café, Mark is the nicest person in the world. Very cool, you'd like him, he loves coffee just as much or more than we do—which was a very big surprise to me by the way, who knew?"

"Wow, you must introduce me!"

"I will. Oh and Tristan has the most adorable daughter," Rory added.

"He's married? How'd he manage to do _that_ quietly?" Lorelai wondered. "I must ask him for some tips, you won't believe the amount of people who are expecting invitations to ours!"

"No he isn't, but he has a daughter… He and his fiancée split a few months before their wedding and she left him with the baby."

"What kind of mother would do that?!" Lorelai asked in disbelief.

"I don't—" Rory was about to say something when she felt something underneath her. 

The phone was hooked between her neck and her shoulder as Rory attempted to reach under the reading chair cushion. She succeeded only in pushing the mysterious unknown object further down. 

"…What is this?" She stood up and yanked the pillow off the chair, and, there, hidden underneath was an empty photo frame.

Rory froze as she recognised it, her mother's voice on the phone was distant. She remembered the photo that should have been inside the frame. She knew where it was now. But the question of what this frame was doing in her apartment, across the ocean from where it was supposed to be remained.

Rory picked up the object of her attention with shaky hands and turned it over. 

Just as she knew and remembered would be there, engraved on the back was: 

__

Lorelai Gilmore, Will you marry me? —Colman Turner.


	7. Chapter 6: Longing to Forget

****

Author: Sunday Rain

****

Rating: PG-13 

****

Spoilers: Second season.

****

Disclaimer: Don't own em.

****

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

__

A/N: Much love to all those who've given me great feedback & the ones who've just discovered it: Starbelly, Monica, Laine, Carrie, etc… Please continue with the criticisms and feedback, its really great.

Better Days 

__

Chapter 6: Longing to Forget

"…Rory? Ror?" Lorelai's voice broke through the fog in her head. "Sweetie, is something wrong?"

Rory finally managed to get her voice back. "What? Sorry, uhm, mom, can we—can we talk later? I just… I have to… I have to go."

Confused, but being the understanding mother, Lorelai agreed and hung up. 

Rory sat there, cradling the phone, as the dialtone came on. Still she did not move from her spot on the floor where she had sunk down to when she discovered the frame.

That photo frame.

That question.

All the memories that were brought on by these two things all lead back to one thing.

Colm.

Rory felt a tear trickle down her cheek. A tear that had not been allowed by her to escape; yet it did of its own accord.

Thinking of Colm always brought back feelings of a broken-heart, pain and regret. Pain that had lasted for the past six months, the broken heart that would last much longer and regret that would stay in her mind forever. 

__

Eighteen months ago

"…Lorelai! I'm home!" 

Rory turned around, eager to clear her teary eyes and be rid of the smell of onion she was cooking. She smiled widely. Hearing the familiar voice sent a happy flutter of excitement down her spine. "I'm in the kitchen!"

Top CNN photojournalist Colman Turner appeared at the doorway, an amused smile decorating his face as he took in the sight of Lorelai Gilmore (the third) cooking pasta. "Wow, well, what brought this on? Tonight was supposed to be my night to treat you special, darling." 

"Well I decided it was _you_who deserves a special treat as you are leaving for faraway Kenya tomorrow…" Rory replied with a gentle sigh. She leaned up toward the man she had spent the past year with and gave him a deep passionate kiss.

"Hrrm, if the surprise is as good as this introduction I don't think anyone could convince me to get on that plane tomorrow," he replied, returning the kiss with as much passion. His hands strayed to the zipper on the blue dress that she was wearing.

"Oh now don't get carried away, you'll spoil my plans for supper," Rory said teasingly, slapping his hands away from their destination and pulling apart. "I have to get rid of this horrible onion smell, could you check on the sauce for me, darling?"

Unwilling to let her go, Colm kissed her slowly on her neck and inhaled. "Mmm… I think you smell wonderful… My Lorelai…"

"Colm, you had better stop now or else we'll never have any supper," Rory laughed and backed away. "Just… make sure the sauce doesn't burn okay? Please…" She blew him a kiss and left toward the bathroom.

"…Dinner was amazing, Lorelai. And now I feel quite bad because I had planned to give you a surprise…" Colman said, after supper had been tucked away and coffee and dessert were served. He reached across the table and took Rory's hand.

Rory blushed. She knew her cooking was less than up-to-par, but it was so sweet of him to have enjoyed it over cooked and all. "You don't have to give me any suprises to make me happy… Just being with you is enough."

Colm took in the sight of Rory, her hair glowing against the flickering flame of the candle. "Which is why I need to give you something…" He got up and walked over to his briefcase, retrieving something from inside. Then he returned with a wrapped gift in his hand. "For you, my darling."

"Me?" Rory squealed. "You didn't have to…" Without any hesitance, she opened the box. Upon seeing what was inside, she gasped. "Oh… Wow, this is a beautiful photo…" The photograph was in a white gold frame, with the words 'I Love You' engraved at the top. 

The photograph was of her and Colm, which was taken that day that they went to the countryside for a weekend minibreak. She remembered him setting up the camera timer and rushing to her side, but she refused to be photographed, and he had tickled her into smiling, so the photo was of the two of them clutching each other and laughing hard… It was a beautiful moment. 

"Its beautiful, thank you darling," Rory reached up and gave him a soft kiss.

"Wait," he broke away from her embrace. "That's not all. You have to turn it over…"

Puzzled, but excited, Rory did as she was told. She turned the frame over and there in tiny engraved cursive, was _the_ question… The question she had been waiting all her life since she was a little girl to be asked. Rory's breath caught.

"Well, my love," Colm asked. He got down on one knee. "Will you marry me?" And he produced a white gold ring from his pocket.

Rory smiled… She knew the answer. She knew what she was to say. She had been waiting for this moment all her life. Yet, she couldn't seem to get the words out… 

"Rory?" 

She blushed. And slowly said, "Colm, you know I love you and you are an amazing man… But this… this is _big_… I have—would you mind it, if I thought about it and gave you an answer—"

Colman frowned slightly. "Later? But darling, Lorelai, I'm leaving for Kenya tomorrow! I… Is it so hard a question to answer? Just say yes…"

Rory hesitated. She didn't know what to say. What to do. She felt horrible. She—loved—she loved Colm. Right? But then why was it so hard? She kept her gaze on the floor, not daring to look up and see the hurt that was mirrored in his eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity, she felt him stand up and walk away. She heard the slam of the door to the bedroom. 'I guess I'll be sleeping alone tonight…' she thought.

Groaning, Rory turned over and slammed her fist on the annoying buzzer-noise of the guest bedroom alarm. That night before she had tried in vain to apologise to Colm but he refused to answer her. She remembered hearing him inside their bedroom packing for his trip—

His trip?! Rory sat up in bed with a gasp. Had he already left? She couldn't have slept through late today… What if he—no! Rory glanced at the clock. No! It was seven thirty. Too late… His plane had left at seven…

Rory groaned and fell back into the soft covers. This was not good. He left without waking her up—that meant he was _really_ pissed with her.

Just then the phone rang. "Arrgh…" She tumbled out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. Typical, just when Rory had managed to find the telephone, it had stopped ringing.

"Mrrmph…" Slamming the receiver back on its stand, Rory proceeded to make herself a cup of strong java to get her out of her slump. 

Slowly waking up, she looked at the kitchen clock and realised—and all thoughts of Colman slipping out of her head—that she was late for work!

Stumbling into the London office of CNN, Rory quickly composed herself and her somewhat disheveled appearance. She prepared herself for a smart comment from one of her British colleagues who loved to tease her about the fact that she was finally, for the first time ever, late, but however none came.

Rory looked around and it seemed as if everyone was trying to avoid her eye. She walked up to her good friend Abigail Rutherford's desk. "Hey Abbie," she smiled.

Abigail started. "Uhm, oh, hi, Lorelai…" She quickly resumed her study of the article before her. Rory frowned. This was not the usual hello she received from her enthusiastic, robust friend.

"OK, what's wrong?" Rory asked. "Why is everyone ignoring me?"

Abigail sighed and put her pen down carefully. Too carefully, Rory noted. "Abigail, tell me what's going on… Is there something I should know about—"

Abbie abruptly enveloped her in a hug and interrupted her. "Oh, Lorelai… I'm so sorry!" That's when Rory saw the slightly red teary eyes of her friend. She looked around. There were a few people sniffling and a lot more carrying around tissues and with red eyes but attempting to go about work as usual.

"What's going on?" Rory exclaimed, panicking, thinking of a dozen possible reasons why her whole office could be keeping something from her. "Somebody, just tell me…"

Jason Donovan finally walked up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "You mean, you don't know?" Rory shook her head. Jason quietly led her to the TV consoles lining the far wall, where the video technicians were. He clicked on one TV and squeezed her shoulder.

Rory saw the images flash before her eyes and felt her body go soft. She collapsed on a chair. "No… No…" It couldn't be possible.

There had been a plane crash.

Colman was dead.

Moving to New York was to get away from it. She could leave all that behind. Yet apparently, Rory looked at the photo frame, she wouldn't escape it. No matter how hard she tried to forget.


	8. Chapter 7: The Aftermaths of Unresolved ...

****

Author: Sunday Rain

****

Rating: PG-13 

****

Spoilers: Second season.

****

Disclaimer: Don't own em.

****

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days

__

Chapter 7: The Aftermaths of Unresolved Issues

It had been two days since the discovery of the photo frame. 

Two days since Rory had gone to the office.

Two days since she had eaten proper meals, answered the telephone or gotten out of bed.

Subsisting mainly on coffee, Rory lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling. If only she could get over him. Get over the fact that he was gone. 

The worst part was that the last she saw of him was during a fight. A terrible fight. A fight caused because she was a chicken and couldn't see a good thing when she had it. 

She should have said yes that instant. Then they would have at least had one happy night before…the end. Rory choked up at that. She didn't want to think about him in pain. She hoped that he had been sleeping when it happened, or at least been quick for him.

She did love him.

The shrill ringing of the telephone jolted her from her reverie. She listened to her answering-machine-self, thinking, _My God, was I high when I recorded that? _Talk about over perky.

"…Hey Ror, its your beloved mom. Again. Listen, I promised Luke that this was the last time I'd call today, but babe, you have got me worried _sick_ over here! If you won't call me by tonight then I'm coming over okay? I love you!"

Rory groaned. Boxes of Kleenex surrounded her and crumpled, used ones were scattered all over the floor and bed. Three giant, _empty_, family sized cartons of Ben and Jerry's littered the bedside table, along with three dirty coffee mugs and an actual pot still half filled with cold coffee. Rory's secret stash of expensive European chocolates, meant to last more than a month, had been consumed within the past days. Definitely, this was not healthy.

She turned and caught her reflection in her vanity mirror. _Ugh_. She looked awful. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face was puffy and red, no surprise after two whole days of constant crying. Her fluffy blue bunny pajamas were wrinkled from the constant wear. And… her odor was not very appealing either. 

She needed to get up off her sorry butt and clean up. There was no point in being sorry. No matter how much she kicked herself over the matter, how much she cried her heart out, how much she still pined over Colman and regretted her indecisiveness about his proposal, it _wasn't going to bring him back_.

Rory took a deep, deep breath. _I am just going to have to face up to the fact that he is **gone** and there's nothing else I can do but love his memory and move on._

Saying that was so simple. When it came time to put her plan into practice, it was not as easy. 

"Arrrgh," she cried outloud, frustrated with herself. She hated not being able to control her feelings. Logically, she knew it was not her fault that he was dead. But at the back of her mind, she couldn't help wondering whether his death was Destiny's way of telling her that she was a foolish woman, who was never able to make up her mind about love. She who didn't realise that he was the best she probably would ever have, the only one who would love her. By not answering his proposal that night, she as good as ended their relationship. Destiny then proceeded to show her a lesson.

Prior to this, Rory's life had been a satisfying and almost impossibly sheltered. She never had to understand the meaning of loss, never really had to experience life without someone she loved. But this time, it was her turn to have her heart broken.

Now she really did have to face life alone.

And all she could do was deal.

Rory stood up from her bed shakily. It was time to get out of _poor me_ mode and face reality.

But first, Rory headed for her bathroom.

Tristan looked at the phone. It had been two days since he and Rory had gone out for that coffee. He hated to admit that he was eager to see her again. He never in his life knew the feeling and excitement one could have from just having a true friend, but what he felt after meeting Rory _had_ to be something along the lines of that. 

Sure, he knew they had just gotten reacquainted, but he had told Rory more about his life than he had ever dared to in those few short hours with her than even with Mark or his friend John Brewer (who, come to think of it, he had not heard from in weeks). 

Tristan was not used to friendship. He wasn't used to being overjoyed at having a friend. He wasn't used to being a friend. But that's what Rory said the two of them were. She had said that years ago on a bench in front of an old vine-covered school in a far away land, and she had said that years later, in a supermarket.

Tristan smiled. He wanted to spend some time with his _friend, Rory_. That sounded weird even to his ears, but it was a comfortable sort of weird, like the phrase was meant to be.

He picked up the phone, but before he got a chance to dial, Mary, who up until that point had made her presence in the spacious library unknown, crawled up onto his lap.

"Hey!" Tristan, surprised, exclaimed. 

An enormous smile on her face, Mary gave her father a warm hug, nuzzled him and landed a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

There was a suspicious gleam in her eye.

"Uhuh, nice try babe," Tristan laughed, giving his little girl a squeeze back. "I know that look. You want something, don't you?"

Mary looked pleased with herself at succeeding. "Can you help me with my homework, daddy?" 

"Anything, sweetheart," he replied, knowing full well that he could never deny his adorable daughter of anything. "What is it?"

"Well, I have to finish my picture of my family for school…" Mary started. "And all the kids have all these people in their pictures, and I was wondering, daddy, uhm, do I have a mommy? Because all the other kids do. So, where's _my _mommy?"

Tristan froze. _Shit._


	9. Chapter 8: Stealing Time and a Favour As...

Author: VeeTee [vt88600@yahoo.com]

Date: 22 February 2003

Rated: PG13 (language)

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for the second season. 

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters you recognise from the show.

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

****

A/N: Busy busy and major writer's block/writing anxiety. Apologies if this thing sucks. Grrr. Oh Major Thanks heaps heaps heaps to Jules because you rock and are a v.v.v. cool chica! Love, V.

Better Days

Chapter 8: Stealing Time and a Favour Asked

The powers that be must _not_ like him.

That was the only conclusion Tristan could come up with. Just as soon as he discovered a new source of happiness in his life, another part of it unraveled completely and all Tristan could do was sit, frozen, and stare as it collapsed in his face.

Just w_hat_ exactlywas he supposed to tell Mary? Tristan had never, in his life, actually thought about what he would say if, _when_, she posed that question to him. He'd been going through life assuming that in the beginning stages, Mary would just kind of, accept that she was mommy-less. Or that a mother figure was not present in her life. Apparently, he had assumed wrongly.

It wasn't that he was a stupid father. It wasn't as if he was shirking his duties. It was just that… He never really knew what he would say when the time came for him to sit her down and explain to her why daddy and mommy where not on friendly terms. He thought… He had hoped that when the time came for it, she would be… well… _older_. Explaining this to a five-year-old was _not_ going to be the easiest of tasks.

Tristan sighed. Plopping Mary on the chair, he stood up, smiled at her nervously, ran his hand through his hair—a habit picked up as a child and one which he never seemed able to get rid of—sighed louder. He tried to look everywhere but at his daughter, who, at this moment, was happily sitting in that chair smiling up at her favourite person in the world. 

"Ah…" He cleared his throat. "Uhm…" No sound came out. _Okay… This is definitely not going to be easy…_

Mary eagerly bounced in the leather chair, swinging her short legs. "Daddy?"

"Eh heh," Tristan began again. "Weeell… Um, you see… You _do_ have a uh, mommy… But, uh…"

Mary blinked at him.

Then, in a last desperate hope, he thought of someone who could possibly help.

He picked Mary up and put her on the ground. "Baby," he said, "I'm really sorry, but I have to finish my work… I promise I _will_ help you."

Slightly dejected, a look that very nearly broke Tristan's heart, Mary nodded with a surprising understanding, way beyond her years, and left the study. 

Groaning, Tristan reached for his Rolodex and the telephone.

Toweling her hair, Rory made her way from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed determined to start her life anew. Or… err, something to that effect anyway. _At least I have resolved to move on. _

She knew it wasn't going to be easy. But… What else was she supposed to do? Sit in a little corner and cry all day? No matter how she looked at it, wasting herself away crying was definitely not going to bring her beloved Colm back. And it wasn't going to do her any world of good. And as for the mourning. Well, mourning was… good…? 

__

Well, its going to have to be accepted for now. I do have to let go, Rory decided.

There. That was the logical, normal Rory back. That was a good start… Now it would just be a day at a time. 

Distractions were more than welcome…

__

Rrrring. "Aaaa," Rory exclaimed, startled. What uncanny timing fate had. 

After a quick sweep of the room to locate the receiver, she found it—surprisingly—in its proper cradle. Hrrm. Two days and she was already acting abnormal. "Hello?"

"Hello, uhm… Rory?" 

The voice was familiar, the tone however, was not. Tristan sounded nervous. "Tristan?" Rory asked, tentatively.

A sigh of relief. "You're home. I was… wondering… if you could… I need your help." Tristan asking _her_ for help? 

"Listen, I'm really sorry to just call you like this out of the blue, I know we've just met again, and everything, but I have this enormous problem and I didn't know who to turn to—"

"Tristan!" Rory said, interrupting his rambling, "I would love to help you out… If you'll tell me what it is you need help with."

"Its big," Tristan supplied.

"…And?"

"Its complicated."

"Is it legal?" Rory asked, nervously.

That, Tristan had to laugh at, even under all his stress, "Of course."

"How am I to help, if I haven't a clue what to help _with_, huh?"

"Mary…is asking me about her mother."

Rory cringed. "Ouch. What did you say? Nothing damaging, I hope."

"See, that's just it. I didn't know what to say…" Tristan explained. "I just, kind of, told her that I'd get back to her on that…"

"You just left her hanging?!"

"What was I supposed to do?!"

"Something, but _not_ that!"

"Arghhh, but I don't know what to do," Tristan exclaimed, frustrated. "This part of fatherhood I never really bargained with."

"You never made a backup speech? For when the time came for it?" Rory asked.

"Well, I never thought that this question would pop up so early in her life…"

Rory paused to think of what her own mother had said when she asked her that very question about her her father. Except, Rory couldn't recall. Christopher was always in her life, close or faraway, but not a black hole in her history of existence. Which was what Regina was to Mary.

"You know what?" Rory said after awhile. "When I was a little kid, my dad was always there. I mean, not in the physical sense, but I knew that he was _around_. In my life, I mean."

"But," Tristan whined, "How is that supposed to help me?"

Rory twirled the telephone cord between her thumb and index fingers. "Maybe you should ask Regina to meet her daughter…"

Tristan balked. "What? You're asking me to—"

"You can't just take on this responsibility by yourself," Rory defended her idea. "Besides, _you_ of all people should know it takes _two_ people to make a baby."

Tristan chuckled. "Flashback to ten years ago, and I would be enjoying where this conversation's going, but…" He sighed. Then reluctantly, he added, "To be honest, I don't know where she is, Rory."

"How can you not know where the mother of your own child is?"

"I saw her once," Tristan said. "When Mary had just turned three. We talked. It went fine until I told her how wonderful Mary was growing up to be. Then she had this sudden desire to powder her nose, and I never saw from her since. The last I heard of her was around six months ago; she sent me a short postcard telling me she was moving to Italy. She didn't give a return address."

"Don't you think Mary would want to meet her?"

"I don't think _anyone_ would want to meet her."

"Don't joke," Rory chided. "This is serious."

"_I_ of all people know the seriousness of this situation," Tristan said. "I… hated seeing the look of disappointed on her face, Rory. But the thing I know is that she'll be even more disappointed when I _do_ tell her the truth. It hurts me to think that Mary could be hurt be all of this. She's too young, you know?"

Silence filled the airwaves.

"Well," Tristan said. "Listen to me go on and on."

"No, its all right, really," Rory replied, reassuringly. "Trust me, I need all the distractions I can get."

"Why?"

"Its…its nothing, really." Rory shook away an idea that had formed in her head about telling Tristan about Colm. He didn't need other people's problems right now, she decided.

"Are you sure? Because, you know, if we ever get through this, I will owe you everything," Tristan replied. "You can talk to me."

Rory forced a smile. "I know. Thank you." A strange sense of warmth and reassurance filled her.

More silence.

"I still think you should talk to Regina."

"No… As much as possible, I'd like to figure out a solution that does not involve her. You don't know her, Rory. She's… not… nice…"

"Not nice. That doesn't sound _that _bad."

"Trust me, there are other adjectives I could use," Tristan commented dryly. "However, as an adult and a father, I prefer to stick with that one."

"Well, how about… how about coffee?" Rory asked tentatively. She wasn't sure whether she actually wanted to be social after the past two days, yet, she felt that Tristan's problem was indeed a big one, and she felt a sense of… elation, that he turned to her with it. Plus, throwing her energy in helping someone else with their problems certainly seemed a much better option to her than moping about the apartment all day. 

Tristan sounded almost relieved. "Actually, I was just about to make some lunch for Mary and I. How about you come over instead? Free food…" 

Rory realised just how little she had consumed and her stomach growled at the thought. Although she was a little hesitant to accept Tristan's invitation to his home—it seemed too much like invading his privacy—her survival instinct got the better of her. She was hungry. And no Gilmore would refuse the offer of free food. "That sounds fantastic, actually!"

After giving his address, they were about to hang up, when Tristan remembered something. "Rory?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"No problem." 


	10. Chapter 9: Getting to Know You

****

Author: Sunday Rain

****

Rating: PG-13 

****

Spoilers: Second season.

****

Disclaimer: Don't own em.

****

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days 

__

Chapter 9: Getting to Know You

Well, it took longer than just lunch to map out a plan. Lunch came and went at the Dugray penthouse, and it was five o'clock when Rory finally managed to convince Tristan of a decision. "Finally," Rory said, leaning back in a suede brown settee, "I cannot believe I have been at your house this whole day."

Tristan smiled across the room. He was surrounded by boxes that the two had uncovered, boxes filled with memories and newspaper clippings and photographs that never had time to be put into albums. Rory had convinced Tristan to show Mary a few photos of Regina and him, in case Mary was still curious.

After much compromise on both parts, Tristan had agreed to tell Mary the whole truth, so long as he didn't have to hunt down his ex-fiancée who was now in parts unknown anyway. 

"Well, since its almost dinner, why don't you just stay anyway?" Tristan asked. "That way I can go have 'The Talk' with Mare and you can go buy some pasta for me, cos my feet hurt."

Rory rolled her eyes. "You. Lazy."

Tristan shrugged, "I've been digging up history this whole day, give me a break."

"Oh, whine whine whine. Poor little rich boy," Rory said, teasingly. 

"You can't say anything," Tristan said, "You aren't the one with the broken past, and hidden mysteries and child who's looking for her long lost mother."

"So dramatic."

"Indeed," Tristan said proudly. "I took drama for a year at Yale."

"Ahh, that explains a lot," Rory nodded knowingly. She stood up and walked across the library to peer at the full and almost overflowing bookshelves. 

"Mare should be heading back from swimming with Jessica," Tristan mused aloud. "So, how about it, Ror? Stay for dinner? Mare would love it…"

Rory turned around, a thought at the back of her mind had been nagging her and she had just remembered it. "Tristan? What's the story behind Mary's name?"

Tristan blushed. "Oh, you remember what I used to call you in high school, right?"

"Yep," she replied, shuddering. "What horrid memories."

Tristan chuckled lightly, "Well, it was sort of a coincidence actually, that we named her Mary. Regina was about to name her Sloane, and I put my foot down. She said, 'Well, can you think of a better name?' And the first name in my head I could think of was Mary. So that was it. We named her Mary."

"Sloane?" Rory laughed, as the sound of the doorbell rang. "Ah, the little princess is here…"

The two of them walked to the door and as soon as Tristan opened the hinge, a little ball of human launched herself at her father. "Daddy!" 

"Hey babe," Tristan said, giving his daughter a kiss. He turned to the nanny of Mary's friend who had brought Mary safely home. "Thanks so much, Liza."

"No problem, Mr. Dugray. Have a great day," she smiled and turned to the elevator.

Closing the door, Tristan set Mary on the floor. Rory smiled at the little girl, "Hey Mary, how was swimming?"

"Rory!" Mary squealed, noticing for the first time her presence. "You're still here! Yay! Let's play. Daddy, can I go play with Rory?" She already had her tiny hand clutching around Rory's bigger one.

"Uh…" Tristan looked at Rory who looked pointedly back at him and tapped her foot. "Uhm, in a minute, sweetie. Rory has to go by something for dinner and then she'll be back to play with you, but right now daddy has to talk to you." Rory smiled, satisfied.

Mary reluctantly let go of her hand. "Oh, OK, bye Rory, but come back quick, 'kay?"

Rory nodded, and bent down. "I promise, Mare. Do you want anything?"

"Ice cream! Chocolate!"

"OK," Rory said, and tweaked her nose. "I'll be back," she called behind her shoulder as she grabbed her coat. "Take care." She disappeared out the door.

Mary turned and looked at her father. "OK, Daddy… So?"

Tristan took a deep breath. "Lets sit down, sweetheart." He picked his daughter up and took her to Mary's favourite chair, settled down in it and settled his daughter on his lap. She curled up against him, hair still damp from the pool.

"Now, remember this morning, when you asked me about…Your mom?" Tristan started, with a little hesitation. He felt her nod against him. "Well, here's the story, darling, I'm going to tell you about your mother…"

And he launched into the tale of him and Regina Brown.


	11. Chapter 10: Not a Fairy Tale History

****

Author: Sunday Rain

****

Rating: PG-13 

****

Spoilers: Second season.

****

Disclaimer: Don't own em.

****

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days 

__

Chapter 10: Not a Fairy Tale History

__

Six years and three months ago

"Tristan!" His friend John Brewer came up to him and slapped his arm on his back. "Great party huh?"

Tristan forced a smile. "Yeah. Sure is kickin'…" The truth was it was anything but. He had only just arrived a few minutes ago and he was already trying hard not to yawn. To avoid further conversation about the cocktail party his father was hosting for a new deal closed, he chugged down the wine in his glass. The girl with John, Linda something-or-other looked at him slightly disgusted. He could have sworn that he had been with her in the past.

"Come on, man," John said. "We wanna introduce you to someone."

Tristan groaned inwardly. "Oh, I think I'll just stay here… Wait for that waiter to come around with more champagne. Did you try the canapés? They're de—"

"Tristan, shut up," John interrupted and pushed him along with him. "You'll like this person. Trust me, you'll _really_ like her, if you know what I mean." He turned around a winked at him. Tristan tried to appear enthusiastic but felt completely the opposite. _What was the opposite of enthusiastic? Bored?_ He thought. _Yeah. _

As they stopped in front of a group of people, he felt his spirits lighten up. In the centre, holding everyone's attention, was a beautiful brunette in a sexy black dress. She glanced over to him coyly and gave him a half-smile in return. 

"Tristan meet Regina Brown, heiress to Brown and Johnson," John said. "Regina, this is Tristan Dugray, the son of the guy who's hosting this little shindig."

Tristan grinned. _Okay, maybe tonight won't be so bad after all…_

A few months later

"Baby," Regina draped herself over the book Tristan was reading. She gave him a wet kiss on the lips and pouted. "I'm bored. You know what I feel like?"

Tristan smiled and continued reading.

"Tristan!"

"What? I'm reading," Tristan said, brushing her long hair away from the page.

"Oh, baby, come on, you can't honestly tell me that book can hold your attention better than this…" And she reached over and started unbuttoning his shirt. Tristan moaned, now fully distracted from Tom Clancy, and returned her kiss with full force.

__

Three weeks later

"Shit!" Regina slammed the door shut behind her.

Tristan looked up from the papers he had been going through. "Bad day at work?"

"This is no joke, Tristan." Her usually sexy pout was in a thin pissed-off-looking line.

"What? What? How about we make some pasta and eat in bed…" Tristan said. "Maybe you'll forget."

"No Tristan," Regina said. She sat down. "Could you please get your mind off of work for a minute. This is important."

"Okay. This is me paying attention to you and your important business," Tristan sighed and placed his pencil on the table.

"I'm pregnant."

"What?" Tristan thought he had misheard.

"You heard me. I. Am. Pregnant."

"I heard you the first time. How could this happen? We used protection! We did everything right—"

"Well obviously not, or else I wouldn't be in this predicament right now," Regina sighed, seemingly annoyed by his behaviour. "What do we do?"

Tristan ran his hand through his hair. He was still in shock and could only think of one solution. "We'll get married."

"What?!"

"Yes, its only right," Tristan said.

"You know, there are other solutions…"

"No," Tristan said firmly. "I'll be here for you, I promise. We'll go through this together. Besides, my parents and your parents would be pissed off as hell if we were still unmarried with a baby."

"Tristan, I'm not—I wasn't talking about marriage… I was talking about ab—"

Tristan shook his head firmly. "Maybe for other couples. Maybe for you. But this isn't just about you. I helped make this baby, and I want you to please have it. For my sake. For _our_ sake."

"You know how pissed my father will be with you when he finds out?"

"Let him find out!" Tristan exclaimed. "But let him find out about our marriage first… Please, Reggie."

Regina looked into his eyes, and sighed. Originally, she had wanted to slap him for being so Mr. Perfectly-nice-and-logical-even-though-he-caused-the-damn-problem, but she couldn't help herself. She started to smile. "Okay."

_Those were the good days_, Tristan thought. _Too bad they didn't last._


	12. Chapter 11: Apologies for the Past

****

Author: Sunday Rain

****

Rating: PG-13 

****

Spoilers: Second season.

****

Disclaimer: Don't own em.

****

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days

__

Chapter 11: Apologies for the Past

Tristan glanced at Mary. She had been quiet the whole time that he had told her the story of Regina and him, how they met, how the broke up. He didn't know whether it was appropriate for a girl her age, but he knew that this little girl had already had to go through much more than a five-year-old had too. She was growing up but it hurt him to know the reason for it.

"Honey, I just want you to know," Tristan said, gathering her in his arms and hugging her as tight as he could, "That whatever happened between your mother and I had nothing to do with you. You will always be the most important thing in my heart." It was true, she was. She was the first thing that he thought about every morning and his last thought at night.

"I know daddy," Mary said. "I just want to meet her. Does she love me?" She looked at the photo she was clutching in her hand, a six-year-old photo of her father and the mother she had never met.

Tristan didn't know what to say, but he knew his duty as a father. "I wish you could meet her too, sweetheart, but your mom and I, well, we don't really like each other very much, so we haven't talked in a very long time. I'm sure though, if she found out what a beautiful girl you turned out to be, how smart, how funny and how lovely you are, she would want to see you too. I'm sure deep down in her heart, she loves you very much." Mary looked up at him, and he could see she was almost close to crying. "Darling, I'm sorry for everything. Your mother hates me, _not_ you. Please remember that. I'm sorry that this had to happen. I'm sorry that I can't say anything better but I have to tell the truth. Remember sweetheart, our promise?"

Mary nodded, "That we'd always tell the truth?"

"That's my girl. Yes, we'd always tell the truth, so I'm telling you the truth. I don't want you to be hurt, but maybe you will understand when you're older."

"Daddy, can you do something?"

"Anything sweetheart," Tristan replied.

"Will you—will you find mommy for me?"

"Oh…okay, I promise I will try to find your mommy, okay?" He said. He knew he had work cut out for him. But he saw his daughter's eyes light up again and retain their usual sparkle, and he knew it would be worth it.

The doorbell rang. "Rory!" Mary squealed. She jumped off her father's lap and ran on her little legs to the door. Tristan laughed. She may be a mature little girl, but she was still a five-year-old. This time though, he decided that her short attention span was an advantage.

He sighed and stood up, looking at the photo that was left on the chair. He picked it up and looked at it. _Where are you?_

Placing it down on the table, he went off to temporarily forget about his problems.


	13. Chapter 12: Request from the Heart

****

Author: Sunday Rain

****

Rating: PG-13 

****

Spoilers: Second season.

****

Disclaimer: Don't own em.

****

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present. 

Better Days 

__

Chapter 12: Request from the Heart

Dinner was an extravagant affair and they all agreed that their dessert, courtesy of Rory and her lack of cuisine skills, Twinkies and chocolate ice cream, was particularly nice.

Now it was bedtime for Mary, and she skipped along the corridor to her room, with Rory's arm clutched tightly in hers. "Rory, can you read me a bedtime story?"

Rory looked at Tristan. He shook his head and pointed at his watch. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but its already really late and past your bedtime. Maybe next time, I promise." Mary looked sad for a moment and then shrugged. 

"Okay, but Rory, you have to come a lot okay?" 

Rory laughed. "Okay."

"Pinkie swear?" Mary asked holding her pinkie up.

"Pinkie swear." Rory linked her pinkie with Mary's considerably smaller one, and then the little girl looked satisfied.

"Okay babe, into bed you go," Tristan lifted her up and onto her soft bed. He held the duvet over her while she wiggled into a comfortable position. "Say good night to Rory."

"Good night, Rory," Mary said, sleepily. 

"Night, Mare…" Rory said, leaning over and giving the girl a kiss on the forehead. She turned around and walked out the door, to give Mary and her father alone time. Before she exited, she turned around again. "Tristan, it's really late, I should be on my way… Thanks for all the food today."

Tristan paused in his daughter's ritual to bid Rory goodbye. "You have no idea how much I owe you today."

Rory smiled, "It was nothing. But if you insist, maybe one day I'll come running to you for something too."

"Anytime," Tristan said, earnestly.

"Anyway, your daughter's waiting…" Rory said. She gave him a hug. "Night, Tris." She walked down the hallway where her coat and bag were.

Tristan turned around as he heard the front door close and headed back to his daughter.

"Did Rory go?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"I like her."

Tristan just smiled.

"Is she an old friend?"

"Yes."

"How old?"

"Enough questions for tonight, you've gotta sleep."

"Daddy, I love you," Mary said, as Tristan arranged the covers around her.

"I love you too, honey," he replied, kissing her forehead. "Now, goodnight. Sleep tight."

He turned to leave her room, switching off the lights as he went.

Into the darkness, Mary whispered longingly, "I wish Rory was my mommy." 

For the first time in his life, Tristan pretended to ignore his daughter. He pretended he hadn't heard what she just wished. It was the first time he knew he couldn't give his daughter what she wished. 

His heart broke. 


End file.
